[Pomposo’s address to future generations]
“Yes, I am in love with change
As long as nothing changes!
The thought of doing something
For my country is thrilling
But really, what can I do
When the chips are down?
When the private health insurance
And the overseas trips
Are dealt with
And the engine is running full bore on three cars
And the three screens are ramped up
On the plethora of devices
That I need to connect myself
To a virtual world of concern
There isn’t much energy left
For consideration of what sacrifices
I might make, let’s face it
For a piddling return.
Better we deal with the hurricane
The torrential rain
The savage fires
Each time they appear.
Then we can add a few coins
To the rattled tin
And feel an extra inner glow
About supporting our miserable farmers.
My sympathy is aroused
But the brutal reality is
That this will just have to be done
By the next generation.
For now, let’s update our iPhone
Let’s implant our devices
Let’s swipe and flick
The problem onto younger shoulders.
They will inherit our wealth
And hopefully the franking credits
And then they won’t have to worry
About pensions and welfare.
Like old Charles
Being a sovereign at 89 isn’t so bad:
The multiple jobs
The low pay
The rental traps
Will seem but a faded dream
When wealth descends on high.
So, rest assured, the transfer will occur.
Death is redistribution, in the natural way
And if the planet isn’t worth inheriting
That’s all a matter of timing: change is slow.
But take heart!
God gave us a consumptive disease
Pentecostal in essence
And we will see it to the bitter end:
Embers in your mouth, young ones!
Do take a seat, plush on your private assets
And watch the conflagration begin, not a whimper
But the last big bang: enjoy!”
June 2019
Gar Jones
“Yes, I am in love with change
As long as nothing changes!
The thought of doing something
For my country is thrilling
But really, what can I do
When the chips are down?
When the private health insurance
And the overseas trips
Are dealt with
And the engine is running full bore on three cars
And the three screens are ramped up
On the plethora of devices
That I need to connect myself
To a virtual world of concern
There isn’t much energy left
For consideration of what sacrifices
I might make, let’s face it
For a piddling return.
Better we deal with the hurricane
The torrential rain
The savage fires
Each time they appear.
Then we can add a few coins
To the rattled tin
And feel an extra inner glow
About supporting our miserable farmers.
My sympathy is aroused
But the brutal reality is
That this will just have to be done
By the next generation.
For now, let’s update our iPhone
Let’s implant our devices
Let’s swipe and flick
The problem onto younger shoulders.
They will inherit our wealth
And hopefully the franking credits
And then they won’t have to worry
About pensions and welfare.
Like old Charles
Being a sovereign at 89 isn’t so bad:
The multiple jobs
The low pay
The rental traps
Will seem but a faded dream
When wealth descends on high.
So, rest assured, the transfer will occur.
Death is redistribution, in the natural way
And if the planet isn’t worth inheriting
That’s all a matter of timing: change is slow.
But take heart!
God gave us a consumptive disease
Pentecostal in essence
And we will see it to the bitter end:
Embers in your mouth, young ones!
Do take a seat, plush on your private assets
And watch the conflagration begin, not a whimper
But the last big bang: enjoy!”
June 2019
Gar Jones
